


Lushed Kiss

by Decada



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adult Sealand, Hetalia OC, M/M, Party, Peter Kirkland - Freeform, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decada/pseuds/Decada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes getting drunk and encountering a hot guy can lead to the best thing ever.<br/>(Written for my Adult Sealand RP blog, captainrustedfort.tumblr.com<br/>By the way, Isfandyar is supposedly an Iranian name based on Esfandyar (It's seriously just one letter changed.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lushed Kiss

For a guy who used to be the life of a party when he was younger, Peter felt that maybe this one was above his tolerance level. The stench of the top Swedish beer was too strong in the air, and yet it did nothing to mask the stench of sweaty bodies of people dancing too hard and pot someone sneak in and some people were smoking upstairs. All of it was made worse by the loud metal music blasting away in the speakers and some buffoon bashing into a prop gong they brought with them (Who even brings a gong anywhere? Peter thought when he saw it before shaking his head and deciding it was none of his concern.)

To escape the scene before his forming headache turned into a severe BPD attack, Peter stumbled into the nearest door he can slip away to. In the kitchen, Peter went to the sink and switched on the faucet, splashing his face with the cold water to cool his cheeks and clean off some of the sweat that moistened his forehead. He shut off the water and leaned his hands against the sink's edge, hanging his head as he took deep breaths to counter the polluted one he kept breathing in in the wild living room. As his head began to cool, he heard something going off, an annoying beeping noise that was probably the smoke detector going off.

“Just how much pot are they smoking up there? Damn,” Peter swore softly as he looked around for the smoke detector to switch off. He spotted it above the oven across the room, but it was off. If it wasn't the smoke detector going off, then what the hell was that noise coming from?

Peter gasped and looked down at his wrist, where the watch he now remembered beeped and flashed green. It read 9:16 PM; his alarm went off for sixteen minutes without him noticing.

“Oh, shit!” Peter shouted as he snatched a glass off the dish rack and filled it up with cold water. He dug in his pockets and pulled out a silver case with his initials engraved in black. He opened the case and took a tablet out. He paused before he put it in his mouth. Wait, how many beers did I have? Peter wondered. Although it had to be less than five because he was still standing and can think clearly enough, it had to definitely be more than one since his tongue felt too thick to be healthy and his legs were still a little too wobbly. “...Aw, fuck, it,” Peter said as he placed the tablet on his tongue. He gulped down the entire glass of water and placed the empty glass in the sink. He closed his eyes and hoped that the pills will take affect and that the late dose won't affect him poorly.

“Uh, hey, are you all right?”

Peter glanced out of the corner of his eye to see a young man standing by the door. His eyebrows were furrowed with worry. Peter turned around and straightened his tee shirt. “Yes, I'm fine, thanks.”

The man stepped closer, walking until he was standing right next to Peter. “Are you sure?” He asked as he took Peter's chin and tilted it up. “You don't look so well.” His eyes caught the silver case on the counter and a sly grin curled his lips. “Ooooh, you're just having a party all on your own, huh?” He took the case and shook it tauntingly in Peter's face.

“Don't really think trying to prevent an episode is what I'd call a party,” Peter retorted as he took his medication case back.

The young man raised his eyebrows. “Episode? What- Oh...”

“Yeah.” Peter looked down at his case that he fiddled with.

“What do you have?”

“I'd rather not say, honestly.”

“Oh, of course you wouldn't to a complete stranger!” The young man said with a slap of his forehead. “Sorry. My name's Isfandyar, but it looks like the Swedes don't know how to pronounce it, so they call me Fanny, instead.”

“Fanny?” Peter snickered.

“Yes? What's so funny?”

“Nothing, really, it's just that where I'm from, which is Britain, by the way, fanny tends to mean ass.”

Fanny nodded. “Oooh, I see then. Heh heh, that's pretty funny.”

“Yeah, but I don't think I want to call you an ass, Isfandyar. Peter Kirkland. Enjoying the party so far?”

“A little. I mostly just stood around, watched people dance and shit. By the way, you have some nice moves for someone dancing to metal.”

“Ha, thanks. You kinda learn to make your own moves after growing up around metal rock. Wait a minute, you were watching me dance?”

“Yep. I kinda like the way you move, Peter.”

Peter looked back down at his case. “Mhm. Ah, thanks. I guess? That seems a little weird, though. Just watching someone dance from afar.”

“I know. Which was why I had to meet you, you know? Get a little flirting done, get to know you better, maybe ask for your number later. But, uh, then I figured...” He tapped the case with a finger. “...That now wouldn't be the best time. By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Hmm, fine. It's mild, so I would've been sort of fine whether I took them on time or not,” he lied; he knew that the wild party would've triggered a worse episode if he hadn't taken them, but it was a detail that he didn't need to share.

“Oh, good, good!” Isfandyar moved in front of Peter and cupped Peter's chin again, this time holding it in place as he touched his forehead to Peter's. “It would be terrible for a cute little fellow like you to get sick and have to leave.”

“You sure do work fast, don't you?” Peter asked. He put aside his medication to free his hands. He can feel himself being taken in by Isfandyar's dark brown eyes and their fingers locking together.

“I sort of do.” Isfandyar was about to plant a kiss on Peter's lips, but then he hesitated. “Why? Do you want me to slow down? Don't feel up to it, now?”

Peter smiled gently and touched his nose to Isfandyar's. “No use in slowing down now.”

And then their lips locked together. The sudden sensation of having soft lips on his own took Peter's breath away, and Isfandyar's pressing their bodies together, running his hand down from Peter's chin to his hip in a slow caress, made breathing that much harder. All he could taste was some sort of hard liquor- vodka? Gin?- and strong breath mints as Isfandyar flicked his tongue in his mouth. Isfandyar toyed with Peter's shirt a bit before finally lifting it just a tad, enough to allow him to stroke the exposed skin with his fingers. It felt like getting drunk all over again that night; the touches were making Peter so weak that he had to widen his stance and plant his feet on the floor so his weak legs don't give out.

Isfandyar took that differently, however. He pressed himself in between Peter's thighs, thinking that it was an invitation. Peter gasped in his mouth and snatched his face away. “Holy shit,” he moaned softly, releasing his hand from Isfandyar to grip his shoulder instead.

“Something wrong, Peter?” Isfandyar asked. He moved his lips to Peter's neck and nipped and sucked.

Peter craned his neck to give Isfandyar some more area to work with, letting out a euphoric giggle and Isfrandyar's black stubble tickled his skin. “No, no, it's fine. Just don't bite too hard.”

“Mmhmm,” Isfandyar finished working on the bite mark he was forming on Peter's neck and tried a more gentle approach, choosing to kiss Peter from his collarbone and up to his cheek, and back to his mouth. Peter could feel his body heating up as he was getting consumed. But he also knew that he had to reciprocate somehow instead of giggling like a strung-out schoolgirl, so he dug his fingers into Isfandyar's hair with one hand and use his other hand to cup a firm buttocks.

I think I like this one, Peter thought giddily. He was grinning ear to ear, or at least as much as Isfandyar's lips would allow. Yet, when Isfandyar started fumbling for Peter's belt and lifting Peter's shirt higher, Peter quickly took hold of Isfandyar's wrist.

“W-wait,” Peter said as he broke the kiss again. 

Isfandyar raised an eyebrow. “What's the matter?” He panted. 

Peter started to answer, but he had nothing to say. What the hell, Peter? You're in a semi-private room with the hottest guy you've seen in your entire life who'll finally take that fucking virginity.

“I'm...just not ready. Not tonight.” Peter gently pushed Isfandyar off him and hung his head. “Sorry, Isfandyar.”

Isfandyar made a silent “oh” face and nodded. “It's fine, but why? You're not feeling well? Need to rest?”

“Actually, yes, I think I do.” He pocketed his medication case and checked his phone. Even though it only read 9:47, Peter still said, “It's late for me, I have to go home. Er, but wow, thank you for... that. Really felt good.”

“Hm. Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No, thank you. I'm kind of used to getting home drunk, I can find my way back.”

“Okay, then, but one thing.” Isfandyar too Peter's phone before Peter could put it away. He tapped on the screen rapidly.

Peter looked on in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you my number, of course.” He handed it back with a peck on Peter's cheek. “I don't want to lose track of you. If you ever feel up to continue where we left off, call me or something, alright?”

“Sure.” Peter pocketed his phone and waved as he left out the kitchen door. He walked through the bustling party, pushing past moving, overheated, and most definitely drunk bodies, and he was already thinking of Isfandyar and every single detail of him, from the way his combed-back black hair felt so soft and airy to the touch, to the way his lips made Peter weak, and to the gentle touch and caresses of his fingers on his skin. He seemed to be in a daze reliving that brief (at least too brief for his taste) electrifying necking, that Peter didn't notice that was already at the door of his apartment. 

Taking his keys out, Peter unlocked his door and dumped his keys into the key dish. He untied his boots and slid them off, removed his studded cuffs to place them on the couch absentmindedly, and just made his way to his room, where he slid into his bed covers and kept thinking of the man he met at the party until the liquor inside him made him go to sleep.


End file.
